Something of Ashes
by InTheArmsofaTheif
Summary: He looked completely down hearted, not unlike the face that's near frozen on Scotts features because of Allison. And, crap. Because Derek had set them all down for the werewolf version of "the talk" when Scott was going crazy after the Argents moved to Pennsylvania. Stiles knew exactly what that look meant. Even if Isaac hadn't figured it out yet.
1. Chapter 1

Stiles was running. Running away from the police. Or, more specifically, his father, who had caught wind of him snooping around yet another crime scene. This one, however, was completely absent of supernatural doings. Which was probably why Stiles had been so interested. He wanted to feel normal sometimes. Most of the time Stiles reveled in his association with werewolves, but every once in a while it was nice to be normal. And, for Stiles, what was more normal than chasing after his dad's radio call at 10 at night? Well, the internet, but even sometimes that gets boring.

He was just breaching his hidey hole between the preserve and the school grounds (the closest place he could plausibly have reason for being if his dad found him) when he spotted someone in his spot.

"Dude!" Stiles exclaimed in surprise, trying to keep his voice hushed enough to not alert the nearby cops. "Or, dudette with a shaved head," Stiles corrected when the person turned around. He took in the sight of a girl with no hair in as best stride as possible.

The chick quirked an eyebrow, her face blanker than even Derek's (who at least usually looked blankly pissed off) and brought a cigarette to her lips. In shock of seeing a girl with hair as short, if not shorter, than his, Stiles didn't tell her to cover for him if his dad showed up. That he'd been here the whole time. Instead, his smart ass mouth ran ahead of him, as per usual. Thankfully not commenting on the hair, which he thought might get him punched.

"You know smoking's bad for you, right?"

The girl jutted her lower lip out so that when she exhaled the smoke cloud streamed in front of her face before dissipating into the air. "No," she said dryly. "That's new information. Thank you for bringing this to my attention." Then she took another drag.

"Well, when you die from the Black Lung-"

"Black Lung is from coal mining, dipshit," she retorted before tossing the butt to the ground and stomping it out.

Stiles was well aware of that, but it was more fun to say Black Lung instead of Lung Cancer. Black Lung sounded like a pirate's disease or something. Besides, the word cancer made him think of his mom. So, he tried to not say it. Ever.

He grinned a little and pulled at his nose nervously. The girl, who looked his age, had on a fleece coat that looked five sizes too big, an almost too tight band tee which, despite fully covering her, accentuated her breasts in a way that could not be ignored (once she had turned around, Stiles mistake in her gender was oh so obvious), and a pair of beat up jeans. But the most interesting thing about her was that Stiles didn't recognize her. Stiles didn't know everybody in town, but he did a borderline inappropriate amount of cyber stalking and police file creeping and his mind never forgot a face. Well, almost never. Point being, he could at least _recognize _anyone who lived in Beacon Hills. But he didn't recognize her. And by the way her eyes narrowed as she looked him over, Stiles could tell she recognized him.

"Nice shirt," Stiles said before really thinking of the words that continued to tumble from his lips. "Because, you know, I like that band. Surprised you do. You give off that heavy metal or classic rock vibe. Not, um, indie folksy whatever genre they are. Have to say, I've never met anyone who even knows who Augie March is let alone owns a shirt. Who are you, but the way?"

Stiles caught something like recognition in her eyes before she huffed a laugh, her lips tugging into an almost smile. "You're that kid with the impossible name." The girl leaned against a tree and crossed her arms, really looking Stiles over.

Stiles blanched. Most people didn't remember Stiles first name. His teachers couldn't say it and always called him by his middle name, which, although pronounceable, he _really _didn't like. Stiles had come up with the name Stiles when he was in second grade. Sure, if people dug up his file, for legal reasons you can find it, but no one's even tried to call him by his first name since the invention of Stiles except for his mom. So, he hasn't heard it in a long while.

"Do I know you?" he asked.

"Brooke Whalen," she offered with a bit of a smirk. "You once dunked my braid in paint after watching _Harriet the Spy_."

Stiles's jaw dropped. He involuntarily spun in a circle to process this information and near vigorously ran a hand over the half inch of hair on the back of his head. "I remember you!" he almost shouted, completely having forgotten why he needed his hidey hole in the first place. "We used to like, run around on the playground together and shit."

Scott and Stiles hadn't gone to the same elementary school. Beacon Hills may be a smallish town, but there were still like five public elementary schools. So, in a life before Scott being his best friend (age 12), and before his mom died (age 10), and before Lydia moved into his life in third grade (age 8), and before being diagnosed with ADHD (age 7), there had been a girl Stiles used to sometimes chase around because she was the only one fast enough (mentally and physically) to keep up with his hyperactivity.

Brooke had moved away in the middle of second grade. But, before then, she and Stiles were practically friends. Practically and not actually because they never saw each other outside of school or T-Ball and sometimes Stiles did things like dunk her hair in paint and she would do things like knock him off the swing and adults would call it a crush but in reality Brooke sometimes physically hurt Stiles because he was being annoying and Stiles would constantly annoy her because he was fascinated. Okay, so maybe there was a bit of a crush, but it was one sided and completely forgotten about once Brooke was gone and Lydia was in Stile's third grade class with her beautiful strawberry blonde hair.

But for all the pushing and pulling and paint and superglue incidents, Brooke and Stiles spent the majority of their recesses running until they collapsed on the grass and watched the clouds until the bell rang. But then there were the times that Brooke would not want to run and Stiles watched her play with her other friends, because Brooke _had _other friends. And it was that which drove Stiles to do things like draw on her face during nap time, but then she'd ignore him even more. It was a vicious cycle, really. For a couple of six year olds, at least.

But now this was Brooke in front of him, no hair to put paint in, the stench of smoke on her breath, and a chest that so indicated she wasn't a little kid anymore.

"I go by Stiles now, by the way."

Brooke nodded, understanding. "I don't even remember your real name, or whatever you were called then."

"You used to call me Chip," he said before clenching his jaw and widening his eyes. He had hated that name more than his middle name and he had just blurted that ammo to her without even thinking.

"Why?" she began to ask, before near smiling again. "'Cause you look like a chipmunk. Right."

Stiles groaned inwardly and decided to change the subject. "What are you doing back here? Or, where did you go? I never really knew. Or, better yet, what happened to your hair?"

"San Diego," she said, rolling her eyes. "Truly a whale's vagina." Stiles laughed at the reference. "But, I'm here staying with my grandparents for a couple of months." Her eyes seemed sad. Stiles got the feeling that 'these couple of months' were supposed to be a type of goodbye. They must be getting really old. "And as for my hair, well…" she ran a hand through the light brown peach fuzz that covered her scalp and shrugged. "Who needs it? Society standards, superficial looks, blah blah blah and what not."

"So you grew up into a rebel," he said, smirking. "Well, be careful, because my dad's the Sheriff you know. And you're too young to be able to buy cigarettes."

Brooke rolled her eyes. "It's my life. I do what I want with it."

Stiles was about to say something. Stiles is always about to say something, so that's not a surprise. But he was going to give her a nice little rant as to the values of taking care of yourself and all that when tall boy in a black leather jacket appeared out of apparently thin air in front of him. It took Stiles a second to figure out he had jumped from the small but steep hill (which made his spot the hidey _hole_, see, clever) on his right.

"I win," Isaac said before snapping his eyes over at Brooke. She looked over Isaac, seemingly unimpressed, and pulled out her pack of cigarettes.

"Win what?" Stiles asked, but Isaac wasn't listening. Stiles could see his nostrils flare and the tip of his nose twitch. It was so slight he doubted Brooke would have noticed if she were looking (she was busy lighting the death stick in her mouth), but Stiles knew Isaac was smelling something not quite normal about her. And then his eyes grew slightly sad. Or, really sad. "Dude, Isaac," Stiles said, snapping his fingers in front of the other boy's face. It took a moment for him to look away from Brooke, but when he finally looked at Stiles that sadness was gone. Stiles was going to ask about that look. But later. When there wasn't a human around that knew nothing about werewolves and shit. "Win what?"

Isaac shrugged. "Scott went to your place, and you weren't there, so he sent out a text to play Find-the-Stiles. I found you first. I win."

"But did you actually _win _anything?" Brooke asked with her cigarette hanging between her lips.

Isaac snapped his head her way with a strange look in his eye and Stiles noticed his hand twitch out to her for a moment before stilling by his side. "First dibs at food at the next meeting."

Brooke raised her eyebrow in a look that could combat one of Derek's. "That's actually a pretty decent prize," Stiles told her. "With the way they eat." Brooke shrugged, not seeming to care anymore.

"Damn it!" Erica's voice yelled from above. Stiles looked up the hill to see the blonde glaring at Isaac. But then she caught Brooke's scent and frowned at the bald girl. "Who's she?"

Boyd came up behind Erica. "Did you seriously just notice her?"

Erica shrugged. "I was tracking _Stiles_."

"Well if you don't pay attention to others then you could get in trouble," Derek said coolly, coming around a tree.

"How am I the last one here?" Scott asked, mystified.

Brooke took the cig from her mouth and tapped it, letting the ash fall. "You have weird friends," she told Stiles.

Stiles shrugged and turned to Scott. "Jackson's not here yet," he offered, hoping to console his friend a bit. Jackson was a proper wolf now. It took a while, but it happened. Stiles still thinks it would be cool if instead of saving Jackson he just became the master. But, oh well.

"Jackson's with Lydia," Scott said, making a gagging face. "He's not playing." In truth, he was just jealous. Somehow the fuck up that is Jackson and Lydia had managed to work through their problems and had started dating again. Allison had moved away with the rest of the Argents after Gerard's death. Chris wouldn't let them see each other and was going to make it permanent by going cross country. But this time it wasn't a slight against Scott being a werewolf. He needed to help Allison so she wouldn't turn into another Kate. The last time anyone who wasn't Stiles had seen her (because she would let him visit because he was human), Allison was holding a crossbow to Scotts heart. And not figuratively.

Scott looked over to Brooke. They all seemed to be staring at her, sniffing her out in their weird werewolf ways. He had to hand it to Brooke that she didn't seem to be fazed by their creepiness. "I can go," she said, blowing smoke to her side. All the wolves scrunched their noses. "I just need to smell like not smoke by the time I get back to my grandparents. So if you know any good places that are open this late?" Brooke only looked at Stiles, pointedly ignoring all the strange stares from the pack.

Stiles shook his head. "Nothing's open past ten in Beacon Hills except like, bars. But I doubt you'd come out of one and smell _less _like smoke."

She nodded slightly, dropping the new butt to the ground and twisting her foot on it like she had the last one.

"Stiles, who is she?" Scott asked.

"Girl I haven't seen in ten years," he replied. "Uh, guys, this is Brooke. Also known as the only person who could keep up with me pre-Adderall."

Brooke gave a knowing smirk, her eyes looking up as she recalled the hyperactive first grade version of Stiles. "That makes sense. H or no?"

"H."

She nodded and turned to leave. "Well, nice catching up I guess. Have fun with your creeper friends."

For a split second, Stiles thought she was going to say creeper wolves. That's what he called them. It seemed natural. But she didn't, because she didn't know. Of course. In the second half of that split second, Stiles watched as Isaac actually did reach out, saying "Wait," as if her leaving was the most disastrous thing in the world.

"Dude, don't touch me," she snapped, her teeth clenched together. Isaac let go, looking hurt.

"Sorry," he muttered.

Brooke locked eyes with Stiles. "Creepers," she said and shook her head.

"Just," Isaac started, unsure of himself. It was weird to see him like that. Flustered. Then, with that word, Stiles mind skipped to fluffy snow fall and it took him a while to get back to reality. "I know we don't know you, but you can stay. We weren't really doing anything."

Erica groaned. "I don't want to stay here if she smells like that," she bluntly told Isaac. "Come on, Boyd."

Boyd gave Isaac a semi-apologetic smile before interlacing his fingers with Erica's. No one could blame him, really. Pissing off your she-wolf girlfriend was not high on his list of things to do, after all. Stiles looked over to Derek- who was already gone.

"Sorry my stench of tobacco is so offensive," Brooke laughed. She didn't seem bitter, but amused that these bad ass looking kids couldn't stand the smell of smoke. Stiles would have protested her words, but she didn't know how sensitive their noses were, and the smell was strong enough to bother _him. _So, Stiles completely understood where Erica was coming from and couldn't say anything.

Or, well. That's a lie. Stiles always has something to say. "Erica's just pissy because it's nearing her time of the month." Stiles didn't know Erica's period schedule. That would be weird, even for him. But, the full moon was only a couple of days away, so it wasn't a total lie. "And Derek…" Stiles made a pained expression. "He's not so good at the talking or the people skills."

"Dude, don't have to explain your friends to me," she said with a shrug, giving Isaac a weary once over. "But make sure they don't touch me. I don't know you." She said the last part looking at Isaac. He looked completely down hearted, not unlike the face that's near frozen on Scotts features because of Allison.

And, crap. Because Derek had set them all down for the werewolf version of "the talk" when Scott was going crazy after the Argents moved to Pennsylvania. Stiles knew _exactly _what that look meant. Even if Isaac hadn't figured it out yet.

"Well, it's late and dark. And you can't go home until you smell less of smoke. And I'm bored. Though that crime scene was interesting, I can't go back because I doubt I can escape my dad twice. And Scott is like a permanent fixture at my house and I think Isaac here wants to be your friend," Stiles babbled, "So if you want, you can come over and we can all watch a movie or something. You can tell me all about what it was like living in a whale's vagina."

Scott and Isaac gave Stiles a confused look which he ignored. It wasn't his fault they didn't watch as many movies as he did. The three boys then looked at Brooke expectantly. Stiles with genuine curiosity as to how the bubbly girl he kind of remembered turned into this grunge rebel chick, Scott with a sadness in his eye that never went away, and Isaac with a mix of hope and heartbreak. She gave them all a weird look, but then shrugged again. "Eh, why not. If I meander round the woods any longer, I'll just pull out another cigarette, so that would get me nowhere in the 'I stink' category of my problems."

X

A lot had changed since Stiles started his sophomore year of high school. For one, his best friend became a werewolf. And then he almost died like every week or something. First it was Kate and the alpha. Then it was Gerard and the Kanima. Then Gerard was dead and Allison was crazy and Chris and Derek had an actual discussion as to what happened to Victoria (although that was purely through Stiles because they wouldn't meet in person). Chris hadn't been happy to learn that his wife had tried to kill Scott because he and Allison were secretly dating. That seemed too far, even if Scott was a werewolf. But he still loved his wife, still mourned his wife. And it killed Stiles because he understood, he did, even if he thought Mrs. Argent was a bit bat shit crazy. And Chris was trying to help Allison, but she was messed up and mourning and all of her talks with Stiles hadn't helped and Allison was caught sneaking out with all her arrows and that was it. Allison wasn't eighteen yet. Chris was taking her away.

It was a really awkward conversation Stiles had with Mr. Argent. Apparently Chris trusted Stiles enough that if any of the pack went on a killing spree, Stiles would take care of it. They packed and left and Chris had given him a special box of aconite bullets and a talk with the Sheriff that lead to Stiles taking lessons on how to shoot a gun. Oh, right. His dad knew now. About everything. So did Scott's mom. It took a while before they could all be comfortable about it. Well, as comfortable as you can be about werewolves being real and knowing exactly why your son has been lying to you and finding out how many times he's almost died because of it.

But the Argents were gone, and Derek breathed a little easier. Except that during all of this, he was also dealing with the resurrection of crazy pants Peter. (Seriously, everybody in Beacon Hills is kill you crazy, apparently.) Stiles wasn't exactly sure how he had done it, but Derek chased Peter off, making him a lone omega roaming the country side and hopefully (Stiles thought) run into another group of hunters far away from Beacon Hills and have that be the end of it.

Stiles still shivers a bit when thinking about his last interaction with Peter. He had gotten all up in his space and told him _I still think you'd make an excellent werewolf, Stiles. I wish you had said yes_. No one had known Peter had offered Stiles the bite until then. Derek had been livid. It wasn't long after Peter disappeared.

But, again, because what is a break? The pack then had to deal with coming together as a pack. Learning things like _trust _and _being honest _about all the weird lycanthropy shit and _not being cryptic _was a key one. They had to help Jackson with the transition from lizard to wolf and help Lydia with her severe trauma. They had to help Scott with his debilitating heartbreak.

Twice a month they all got together, because everyone was so new to this and things really needed to be taught. And not just physical stuff, but actual things they need to like study almost and remember to like _survive _and what not. So, every new moon, everyone was invited. That included all the wolves, Lydia, Stiles, Danny (because as soon as he was really beginning to put it together, Lydia told him everything), Mrs. McCall, the Sheriff, and Dr. Deaton. Mrs. McCall never came. Sometimes Stiles's dad did, at the beginning mostly, because he was worried and concerned and sure as hell wasn't letting his son out of his sight to go romp around with werewolves without knowing everything there was to know. But now, it's been long enough, the pack meetings are more of a checking in and hanging out type deal, it's usually just the teens that show.

Every full moon it's only the wolves. And Stiles and Lydia, because they refuse to be kept out of anything. Period. Sorry Derek your glowing red eyes aren't going to chase us off.

And now, now they were halfway through their junior year of high school and everything seemed almost normal. There had been no crazy supernatural death matches in over eight months and the only thing that happened to disturb the natural order of things is the fact that Stiles's dad and Scott's mom started dating (and EW GROSS TAKE THAT SOMEWHERE ELSE) and they seemed actually happy for once in the longest time either child could remember. So they never said anything against it.

And for the five minutes Stiles talked to Brooke he was pretty happy to maybe have a friend that he could pretend to be normal with because she was only going to be around for a couple of months and she didn't know anything about werewolves. But then Isaac had to go and look at her like that. He watched her the entire time Iron Man played and all Stiles could do was try not to groan. Because when Brooke left, he _really _didn't need another love sick broken hearted Scott on his hands.

Stiles's dad walked in halfway through the movie and called his name in warning. "I'm not smoking!" Stiles replied, rushing to the entrance to greet his dad. "Just picked up a wayward youth off the streets and brought her home to watch movies."

"Her?"

Stiles shrugged. "And Scott and Isaac."

The sheriff raised an eyebrow and onced over his son. "And, is this wayward youth one of, you know," he nodded with the last word and yes, Stiles knew.

"Nope. They would have said something. Or like, growled or something."

Sheriff Stilinski pulled a hand over his face and shook his head. No doubt thinking, _what is my life? _ But he didn't say anything more and Stiles went off to finish the movie.

When it ended, Brooke left, giving her thanks for the invite. "Besides the stares from that one," she said, jutting her chin toward Isaac, "not a terrible way to pass a few hours."

"Anytime," Stiles smiled, ushering her out. He offered a ride, but she refused.

"Can't run anymore," she told him with a cringe, "but I can still walk. So, I do."

Brooke wasn't hyperactive, but she was fast as a kid. Stiles wondered what happened to stop her from running. The cringe told him it was something she missed. _Maybe a broken leg, _he thought. But he was wrong. As soon as she had rounded the curb, Stiles raised an eyebrow at Isaac. They need to talk about this before it went crazy. There was all too much crazy in Stiles life and he would care to avoid it.

"I know that look," he said. "That is Scott's 'but it's _Allison_' look." ("Hey!" "Shut up, Scott.") "And you have it over Brooke."

Isaac crumpled onto the couch.

"I understand that this is like weird werewolf destiny Twilight crap, but you're freaking the girl out."

"Stiles," Scott said, putting a hand on his shoulder. Stiles looked up in surprise. That was like _concern _and _hurt _coming from Scott that wasn't because of Allison. "Brooke smells wrong."

His heart sank. "Not just the cigarettes?"

Scott shook his head slowly. "She smells like sick. Like-"

Isaac's voice was faint, but it cut through them all. "She's dying."


	2. Chapter 2

When Derek sat them all down for the first New Moon after Allison moved away, it had been probably the most awkward experience for any of them, largely because Derek seemed so uncomfortable talking about it, but mainly because Scott couldn't get a grip and was near wolfing out the entire time. He actually latched onto Stiles and whined. Although, this wasn't anything new. He had been twitchy and extra pouty since not being allowed to see her, but clingy ever since he couldn't even creepily stalk her voice or scent. Stiles, his best friend, was Scott's only comfort during this time. Even now, he moped around most of the time and hung around Stiles more often than before the werewolf bite.

This was the meeting where Derek finally broke down exactly what a mate was.

First off, there wasn't imprinting or some shit like that. Just like humans can fall in love more than once, so can werewolves. And they can be human or wolf. Only, if a werewolf falls in love with a human, they will only gain the benefits of a mate (more strength and higher rank within the pack) if the mate is turned. That being said, the bond can still happen. It's a mutual bond, where both partners claim each other. When two werewolves make this claim they become stronger and are forever connected. When a werewolf and human make this claim, they are forever connected. So, Allison leaving Scott, when the pair of them had claimed each other (and no, it wasn't the sex), it was physically hurting him. All Scott wants now is to follow his human, but he can't. And he knows he can't. And that just sucks.

But, there was more to it than just that. Of course there was. What about any of this is just plain and simple. Werewolves were often (not always, but often) drawn to another. Scott had picked up Allison's voice before even knowing her, always able to isolate it amongst the throng of students at school before they had even kissed.

Derek, although none of them knew this, had been intoxicated by Kate's sent. Had she not been raised to be who she was, well that was a hypothetical Derek refused to think about. But, there was a connection to that person, and he had sensed it immediately. (Now Derek is so skilled at ignoring these things, he's suppressed more than one pull to a human since Kate.)

These attractions were what made Jackson realize how important Lydia truly was to him. How she was his anchor. How Allison had been Scott's, and the memory of her still was. Though, Scott admitted to having used Stiles a few times because it hurt too much to think of her. Erica and Boyd hadn't had this immediate attraction, but as Derek said, not everybody does. Sometimes it grows, like the way love between humans normally does. (And Derek was so skilled at suppressing things, that even as his attraction grew, he's still able to be ignorant of it.) So, even though they didn't have some magical love at first sniff, no one would be surprised if Erica and Boyd didn't claim each other.

So, Stiles had a full understanding of mates. And, thanks to Scott, a full understanding of how much love you needed when you can't have them. Even if Isaac and Brooke weren't bonded, it sucked. Scott had a fucking panic attack the first time he and Allison split, and they hadn't bonded yet then. So, this is what led to Isaac and Scott crashing at Stile's place that night. Isaac needed comfort and he wasn't going to get that at the renovated Hale house where he lived with 'let's ignore our feelings until we're physically constipated' Derek.

They slept in the living room, huddled together as the three broken hearts tried to soothe the others. Stiles couldn't think of Brooke having cancer without thinking of his mom. Scott couldn't think about Brooke without thinking about mates, aka Allison. And Isaac couldn't stop thinking about Brooke. So yeah, they were all pretty broken hearted that night. And they fell asleep with sad thoughts and teary eyes.

X

The rest of the pack figured it out pretty much from just looking at Isaac. Sure, they knew Brooke was sick. They could smell it on her under the haze of tobacco, but none of them had been paying much attention at the time as to the look in Isaac's eye. Upon seeing how he writhed like Scott, it wasn't too hard to figure out. Jackson was the only one not in the know, having skipped out on Find-the-Stiles the other night, but it only took a few words of explanation from Stiles before he understood.

"That sucks man," the rare compassionate Jackson said. Then he said something that even _Stiles _hadn't thought of. And Stiles thinks of everything! Where had his brain been? "If you really think she could be your mate, why don't you ask Derek to bite her? She'd need to be a werewolf anyway, and it should cure her, right?"

The mounds of sense that came pouring out of Jackson dumbfounded Stiles. And for a few wretched moments, Stiles wished he knew the Hales when he was ten. He could have asked them to save his mom.

Isaac looked up with eyes wide with hope and fear and uncertainty and shock, but that glorious look was washed away from the response Derek shot out as he came out of the house.

"If she's as sick as she smelled, chances are she wouldn't survive the bite."

A wave of broken emotions hit Isaac, and the guy was shifted and running and baying at the moon before anyone could stop him. Stiles looked over at Lydia, who had an actual human emotion on her face. "I never thought I'd say this, but please never break up with Jackson," he said. "I can't handle three of them."

Lydia pecked Stiles on the cheek and linked her pinky with his. "Promise."

Stiles had gotten over his obsession with Lydia. He still cared for her, of course he did. You didn't just stop caring about someone you had been in love with since you were eight, but he wasn't in love with her anymore. He wasn't sure when that had happened, but when she and Jackson came together again and Stiles witnessed her truly saving the rich bastard, he didn't even mind anymore. They needed each other.

Stiles just wished there was someone who wasn't Scott that needed him. Like, you know, someone Stiles could kiss and all that fun stuff. Because he was horribly deprived, in his own opinion.

It was nearing midnight when Stile's phone buzzed in his pocket. He gave Lydia a look, but she just shook her head, neither of them knowing who would be calling. Everyone they knew was running around the woods like freaks or asleep. The number wasn't his dad or Danny or Deaton, and that was it. That was like, literally Stiles's entire list of people.

"Hello?" he answered.

Brooke's voice came from the other end. _"Oh, good. I didn't know if you'd be up or not. Look, I got busted for drinking with a fake and thank god you're the Sheriff's kid because you're the only person I know in this town and everyone here knows your number. Can you come bail me out?"_

"They pulled you in just for drinking? That's usually just like, a warning and a drive home."

_"Okay, so maybe drinking and a bar fight."_

Stiles sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. The action made him look surprising like his dad. "Yeah, okay. I'll be there in ten."

_"You're an angel,"_ she said before hanging up.

Stiles turned to Lydia who was reading a Cosmo magazine. "Why is it that everyone I become friends with either gets arrested or ends up in the hospital?"

She shrugged. "At least she's not suspected of murder."

"Fair enough."

When Stiles got to the police department, his dad was at the front desk with his arms crossed, just waiting for him. "So," he said, "you know this Brooke Whalen?"

Stiles gave an apologetic smile. "She's the wayward youth I was telling you about. Apparently a little more wayward than I had thought."

"Uh-huh," he says, not impressed. "And are you going to be paying her bail?"

Stiles scrunched his face and scratched his cheek. "How much?"

To this, the Sheriff raised his in eyebrows in surprise. Sure, Stiles was a good kid when he wasn't breaking the law and lying about werewolves. He liked taking care of people and doing nice things. But Stiles isn't one to go so far as to spend _money _on someone. Especially a girl he barely knew. "She really that special?"

Stiles rolled his eyes. "It's not like that," he countered, knowing his dad was thinking he moved from Lydia to Brooke. "She doesn't know anybody here. We were like friends in first grade and she moved away, and she's back for a few months visiting her grandparents. And," and Stiles didn't want to just tell the girl's secrets when he only knew because his friends had super smelling abilities. "I think she's only acting out like this 'cause…" he huffed and rubbed the back of his head. "She's _sick _dad."

His dad understood right away, his face falling and a silent 'Oh' falling from his lips. The Sheriff sighed, his shoulders dropping from his interrogation pose and looked at his son fondly. Stiles really was a good kid. "Keep her out of trouble, will you?"

"Me, trouble, what are you talking about?"

X

Lydia had abandoned the Cosmo not long after Stiles left and was now utterly bored. She can't count how many games of solitaire on her phone she had played before the group of hairy beasts came back from their romp around the woods. Derek, as per usual, was ahead of the rest, coming into the clearing before the renovated house with a confused face.

"Where's Stiles?"

Lydia smirked. She may be one of the few in the group without super senses, but she was sure she was the only one who noticed how attentive Derek was to Stiles's whereabouts, that included Derek. He was oblivious.

"Booty call," she joked, not able to hold back the light chuckle when Derek near growled at her. "That Brooke chick Isaac is pinning over called," she told him (them, the others trickling in). "Apparently she got arrested and Stiles is bailing her out." As she was talking, Lydia continued futzing with her phone, texting Stiles. **Derek seems upset that you're not still here. Super cute.**

She hid the message away before Jackson could see it as he sat down next to her, pulling her in for a good nuzzle. The let-me-smell-you part of Jackson took a while to get used to, but now Lydia loved it. He seemed to visibly become a nicer person when he got to inhale her sent. She was okay with this.

Isaac shifted weight nervously. Everyone, including Lydia, could feel his worry and want. Derek had hoped the run would calm him more than this. But at least he was in control now. It had been a long time since any of them were unable to control the shift during a full moon, but it was always best to run out the compulsion.

Lydia's phone buzzed and she smiled at the message. **Shut up. **A second later another came. **Just b/c im outed as bi thx to ur last pty nd landing a drunk ass danny for 7min in hvn doesnt mean im havin gay sex with every single guy in the pck. **

She hastily replied. **Well, I never expected you to sleep with Scott. That's wrong on so many levels. And it is confirmed as of that girl you have with you that Isaac is off the table. **Danny had gotten himself a new boyfriend. They've lasted a few months already, everyone is pretty impressed.

"Lydia," Derek snapped. She looked up, her smirk still planted on her lips. "Is he coming back?"

"Ask him yourself."

Derek did growl that time and Lydia just rolled her eyes before typing out another text. **Derek wants to know if you're coming back. **After the monthly run, they normally made a bonfire and did the marshmallow bit. It was fun, normally. Even Lydia had to admit to that. One time Stiles was sick and couldn't make it and that was probably the most boring one for everybody. After that, it was like without their chatter box comic relief, why bother? Lydia ran a hand through Jackson's hair and looked around. Their motley crew always seemed incomplete somehow without Stiles. It was weird. Lydia had never paid him any attention before, and then slowly he grew into her life. Now they were something of best friends. Allison had been the first person Lydia had ever made a real friendship with, and with her gone, she clung to Stiles only half as bad as Scott.

Her phone buzzed.

**So that obv means me nd Derek 5eva. **

**I can only come back if u guys don't mind a half drunk Brooke too. Don't wanna get her in trbl with her g-rents for drinkin nd probs wakin them up at this hr. **

"Only if Brooke can come too," she told the group, who were already halfway done making the bonfire.

Isaac's head snapped to his alpha in hopeful expectancy. The look made the terribly tall boy look like a little kid. Lydia thought it sweet. Derek sighed and took a deep breath in as if he were trying not to punch something. Only Lydia read this as jealousy. The rest of the pack saw nothing but their normal broody leader.

"Fine," Derek gritted out between his teeth. "But only if the rest of you," he said, giving his alpha red eyes to all the wolves, "can behave yourselves. I trust you all to not wolf out at her. And if you do," he gave an evil, toothy grin "there will be lots of training for next month."

Erica shuddered. Lydia was thankful she was immune and was never subjected to Derek's 'training' as he called it.

**He says yes. **She texted.

It wasn't long before Stiles's **what, rly? **came back.

**Yes, really. Now get your butt over here.**

When Stiles made it back to the Hale house, Lydia was resting comfortably in Jackson's arms in front of the fire, chatting idly with Erica. The blonde was complaining about the stench of Brooke the moment Stiles's car turned off the paved road and onto the beaten path.

"Ugh, I can smell the cheap beer and the cigarettes in her pocket, which she thankfully hasn't smoked any recently," Erica rattled. "But god that sick smell is awful."

Isaac whined on the other side of the fire and Erica rolled her eyes. The blue jeep pulled up and parked and the tallest member of the group was on his feet and by the car in seconds. Derek snapped his name in warning. That speed wasn't normal.

"Oh, if she's as drunk as Erica smells her being, she won't notice," Lydia said.

Still, they all watched warily as Brooke stumbled out of Stiles's jeep. Once on her feet, she took a moment to steady herself but then surprised them all by walking normally with only a few stumbles. Brooke had a seemingly brilliant talent for appearing not drunk. She had almost fooled the cops, but her blood alcohol level was in the 'you're so drunk you shouldn't be driving for a thirty year old, 170 lbs male' category.

She made her way to the fire and plopped herself down on a log not too far from Lydia and Jackson. Isaac never took his eyes off her, hovering only a few feet away, wanting to touch but not daring. Brooke gave him a weird look and then rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands. "Stiles," she groaned. "Your friends are creepers."

"Sorry," he told her. "But if you weren't too drunk to go home then you wouldn't be subjected to them. I'll grab you some water."

Lydia scrutinized Brooke. She was tall and lanky and there was some bruising going on near her eye from the apparent bar fight. Lydia wasn't a fan of her style, the whole vagabond grunge thing with the nose ring and shaved head, but it worked for Brooke, she supposed. Jackson muttered "I can smell blood on her," into Lydia's ear. She must have gotten scraped up underneath the oversized coat. Either that or whoever picked the fight got shanked. Looking over at Derek, he was still tense, but calmer now that Stiles was back. Lydia smirked. The alpha's gaze was locked on Brooke. If looks could kill. Well, if looks really could kill, between herself and Derek there probably wouldn't be anybody left in this town.

Stiles came back from the house with a water bottle and handed it to Brooke. "You're a saint," she said as he sat down next to her. Isaac was still hovering, but after looking between Stiles and Brooke for another few moments, finally picked up his werewolf courage and sat on the other side of the girl. She had already downed two thirds of the water, which Stiles then pulled from her lips.

"Don't want you to throw up," he said.

Brooke shrugged and slumped, letting her head fall between her knees. Then, after a moment passed, she snapped her head up and took a deep breath. "Do I smell marshmallows?"

All the werewolves had been caught up in the new scent of sick and blood and cheap beer that _they _hadn't even noticed. A second later Scott was walking out of the house with a freshly opened bag, popping a puff in his mouth. Everyone looked at Brooke a little skeptically. She just breathed in again. "God I love the smell of processed sugar," she mumbled. "Plus, I'm starting to go from drunk to hung over." Brooke buried her forehead into Stiles's shoulder. "Can you get me marshmallows?"

Stiles laughed and patted her head. "Yeah, I think I can manage that." He held out his hands and Scott tossed the bag over which Stiles then put in Brooke's hands. "You might want to grab another bag," he told Scott. He just gave a thumbs up and headed back inside.

"Oh my god, I love you," Brooke said, her words only the slightest bit slurred. Lydia flicked her eyes to Derek hoping for a reaction. She may have been imagining it out of sheer will power for the two boys to get together, but Derek seemed to be glowering at the bald girl stronger than he had been before. Brooke shoved three marshmallows into her mouth let her eyes close. "So good," she said, the words were a little difficult to make out.

Brooke slipped off the log to use it instead as a back support and curled her head onto Stiles's lap. Her eyes were still closed and Brooke was continuously eating marshmallows without a care. "So, introduce to me to your creepers," she said in the fleeting moments when her mouth wasn't full.

"Right! Well, I'm Stiles. I think we covered that yesterday. And to your other side, if you remember, is Isaac."

Lydia saw the pitiful wanting hurting look in Isaac's eyes and then glanced back up at Jackson. Scott had always been grossly adoring of Alison, but Isaac? He looked like a kicked puppy.

"Who," Stiles continued, "by the way, has a very comfortable lap if you wish to switch who you're using as a pillow." Brooke merely laughed against his knee. "And then, there's Lydia and Jackson in the first set of conjoined at the hip couples. Our second set is-"

"Jackson Whittemore?" Brooke asked through a mouthful of fluff, pulling her head up and opening her eyes enough to actually see him. She narrowed her eyes and blinked a few times, mumbling that things were blurry before cracking a half smile that Lydia didn't like the looks of. Jackson just looked back at Brooke confused, no recognition on his face. Brooke pointed to him, now smirking. "We were neighbors. Our mom's used to passive aggressively discuss the state of each other's front lawns during play dates."

His eyes widened a bit, memories coming back to him. Lydia could tell they were ones he had tried to forget. Curious. "Wow," Jackson said. "You look different."

"Look who's talking. You used to be fat."

_That would explain it, _she thought before turning her attention back to the new girl.

"Jackson was fat?" Stiles asked, all too excited about the topic matter. Lydia laughed curtly as Jackson hurled a twig at Stiles, snapping at him to shut up. "Hey, one of the fittest guys in school used to be fat, I'm allowed to relish in this moment," he joked, snapping the twig that hit him in half.

Brooke nodded and yawned. "Yeah, but continue with the intros. I can tell you all about baby Jackson when I'm sober." She smiled cheekily at Jackson but then caught Lydia staring. In an instant her entire demeanor crumbled. Brooke took her head off Stiles's knee and glanced around the campfire, darting to Scott as he exited the house, then straying on Isaac a little longer than the rest. "Fuck. You looked me up, didn't you?" she asked with a smack to Stiles's leg.

Lydia did _not _imagine Derek's half step forward. She would have smirked if not for the drunken bald girl before them, attempting to stand and looking more upset than Isaac.

"You all fucking know," Brooke continued.

"Know what?" Stiles asked, but it was subpar lying, even compared to his usual failed attempts at it. Brooke turned to him and pressed a finger in his chest. "Don't give me that," she snapped. "I was too drunk earlier, but I can see it, man." She stumbled over the log and steadied herself, Isaac and Stiles making aborted jerks her way to help. Turning back to the campfire she looked around again and sighed loudly in exasperation. "Here I thought I might get a chance at normalcy again, but no. You're all looking at me with that same fucking pity I can't ever get away from. So, fuck you." Brooke flipped off Stiles and then began to march away.

"You're too drunk to find your way home alone," Stiles protested, getting up from his spot on the log.

"Fuck you!" She repeated. "I'm Irish. I was born to live in a drunken stupor."

Lydia watched her stomp away and Isaac scramble to follow. A part of her wanted to groan for the second coming of Scott, but the situation didn't need it. Even she could tell that.

"Well, that could have gone better," Lydia yawned into Jackson's arm. Then, under her breath so that only the werewolves could hear, "but that seat next to Stiles looks plenty empty, Derek."

Erica and Jackson sniggered, Scott just raising a confused eyebrow at them. Derek huffed, but after a minute stomped over and grabbed the fallen bag of marshmallows. "You're not going after her?" he questioned Stiles.

Stiles shrugged and picked a marshmallow out of the bag in Derek's hands and popped it in his mouth. "I'm sure Isaac's got it covered."


	3. Chapter 3

Isaac worried that Brooke would snap at him again because even he had to admit his actions were very obsessive, but he couldn't help following her. She stormed off and he could smell everything. He could smell the bitter taste of cheap beer and the faint traces of cigarette smoke clinging to her clothes. He could smell the overpowering sludge of sick that reminded him of the dogs Scott works with and the stench that sometimes clung to Mrs. McCall's scrubs. He could smell the salt of the tears that had only just begun to form at the corner of her eyes and he could smell the tang of citrus in her shampoo. And, buried underneath it all, he could smell Brooke as if she were a patch of sunlight coming through the window during winter. He wanted to curl up to that scent the way a cat would nap in the sun and it almost hurt to watch her walk away.

Since meeting Brooke, Isaac vowed to never make fun of Scott again for his hang up over Allison.

After a short distance, Brooke spun around a nearly screamed in exasperation. "OH MY GOD! Stop following me you creep!" She then stumbled and Isaac was there to keep her from falling. Brooke gritted her teeth, not wanting to thank him. "You don't need to help me. I'm not some broken doll."

"I didn't-," he started.

"Save it."

She tugged her arm and Isaac realized he was still holding onto her elbow. He let go quickly and hunched over further. "Sorry," he mumbled. Isaac watched her eyes as they looked him over, curious and slightly hazy from the alcohol. "You know," he said after an uncomfortable moment of being looked at, "you're pretty steady on your feet for the amount of beer you drank, according to Stiles, at least."

Brooke shrugged and continued through the path in the forest, but slower, her heart rate calmer. He watched her wipe away the offensive tears and he wished he could hold her. "I've spent years trying to act normal while under the influence of narcotics or some other shit."

"I spent years trying to act normal while being beat up by my dad," he offered. She turned back again, stopping in her tracks. Isaac couldn't meet her eye, curling into himself further. He wasn't sure why he said that. He heard her heartbeat pick up for a moment. It pounded in his ears. He almost wondered if he'd ever stop hearing it, no matter how far away she may go. He shifted on his feet in the silence. "You probably fit right in, actually. We're practically an island of lost toys. All slightly broken dolls."

He chanced a glance up, and Brooke was eyeing him with eyes that already looked more sober. "I'll let you walk me home," she said, hooking arms with him. "You're not too bad for a creeper, I guess."

X

Danny found himself being dragged by Lydia to 'meet the new girl'. Sure, over the last week or so he had spotted the chick rocking G.I. Jane walking down his block, but he knew she was staying with the Whalen's four houses over and they were ancient which means it was just a summer visit. He didn't understand the need to meet or get anywhere near acquainted with her.

That is, until Lydia spilled that Isaac had Jacob Blacked the girl and that she was friends with Stiles and old neighbors with Jackson back in elementary school. Safe to say, Danny's interest was piqued and he let his connection for being the neighborhood kid who does the old couple's lawn mowing be their initial excuse when he knocks on the front door.

Brooke, as she's called, answers. Up close, Danny can see it. She walked normally and looked fairly normal, if not rebellious teen when he had seen her around, but up close it was a lot clearer. Her eyes were a bit sunken in as if she couldn't get a good night's sleep and she was breeching the wrong side of thin. But there was a gleam in her eyes that spoke volumes of how much she was very much alive.

"Can I help you?" Brooke asks, her eyes lingering on Lydia.

The feisty red head at his side smirked and put a prompt hand forward for a handshake. "Lydia Martin. We were briefly introduced last night. You apparently were neighbors with my boyfriend when he was younger."

Brooke's lip quirked in a reluctant smile and she shook Lydia's hand with veiled curiosity. "Yeah, I remember you, kind of. Still rocking a hang over," she admitted. Brooke's eyes glanced Danny's way briefly before returning to Lydia and leaning against the doorframe. Her stance, Danny noted, was casual, but her eyes were as calculating as the queen bee by his side. "What do you want?"

Lydia shrugged and Danny had to resist rolling his eyes. "You," Lydia said pointedly, a spark flashing in her eyes, "are going shopping with us. This is Danny, he's gay but it's so great to have another girl around."

"What about that blonde?"

Lydia waved a hand in dismissal. "Erica doesn't count." _She's not human, _Danny added mentally. "And ever since Allison moved away I've been annoyingly lacking in having someone to shop with. He may dress well but I can't put him in skirts."

"Which I appreciate," he said dryly, "I do."

Brooke quirked an eyebrow and flattened her lips, giving Lydia a once over. And Danny had thought Derek's eyebrows were expressive.

"I know, we aren't of the same taste, but that's hardly the point. I'm wanting to get to know you, so you are going shopping with me."

Lydia, as always, didn't leave it up too much of a choice.

It was amusing, watching the two girls circle each other around racks of clothing and glaring at each other's picks. Brooke turned out to be surprisingly in tune with other people's tastes and eventually Lydia gave her an approving smile. Lydia also kept trying to force Brooke into buying something but eventually Brooke snapped. "There's not really a point in buying clothes I'm only going to wear three maybe four times at most. I have enough clothes as it is."

Lydia sobered up at that, in a Lydia Martin fashion, that is. She dragged them to the coffee place on the first floor and ordered them each teas, paying for it herself, before asking the tough questions she had really been wanting to ask since the night before.

Danny had never known the girl to be so hesitant.

"How much time did they give me?"

Brooke huffed before taking a sip of tea. "They didn't _give _me anything," she snarked and then sighed, deigning to give a real answer. "Rhabdomyosarcoma," Brooke said, over shaping the sounds in her mouth, piecing out each syllable. She had obviously spoken the word too many times and it had become just noise, just a jumble of letters. Her disease was so much more than that. Lydia hummed into her tea, probably knowing exactly what the word meant and could give a faultless text book definition. "I was diagnosed when I was seven. We moved to San Fran to be closer to high end hospitals for so called expert care. I went into remission but relapsed three years ago. Stopped responding to the chemo. I refused to be put on any trail treatments. All they could do is buy more time and what's the point if I'm so whacked out of it to know what's going on, right?" Brooke took another sip of tea and stared into her cup. "I got sent here for some 'Fresh Air'. I have four months at the most. My parents just don't want to see their kid die."

"What organs have been affected?" Lydia asked.

"My kidneys, liver, right lung, and heart."

They were silent some moments. Danny had hardly spoken all day other than some snide remarks and potentially helpful comments on outfit choices. He felt the need to fill this silence.

"It was fifth grade, I think," Danny offered, "that Stiles's mom died of cancer. I don't know what kind."

The silence came back. It was heavy, but easy.

"On a lighter note," Danny started once the silence lasted too long, "I think I'm going to break up with Tyler." He laughed into his drink at Lydia's startled expression.

"What? Why?" She pressed.

"I don't know. He's just becoming blah, you know." Lydia shrugged. "Maybe I should ask Stiles out so I can see Derek's reaction. That would be entertaining."

"Stiles is gay?" Brooke asked, surprised.

"Bi," Lydia informed her simply.

"Mmm," Brooke hummed into her tea as if this made perfect sense. Danny idly wondered how many people could read Stiles better than himself. "Which one's Derek?"

Danny sighed blissfully, recalling the man in a way that was only safe away from wolves. "Tall, dark, and muscles," he said wistfully.

Brooke laughed. "I'm pretty sure that's the one Stiles called Grumpy McEyebrows on the drive to the bonfire." Lydia near snorted at the nick name. "He is hot though."

Lydia smirked and leaned over the table as if she were parting some great secret. "Don't let Isaac hear you say that," she winked. "It'll break his heart to know you're thinking of someone else in the pack."

Brooke didn't seem fazed by the use of 'pack' but Danny couldn't help but side eye her, worried. It wasn't their secret to tell.

"Why does he care so much," Brooke questioned, shifting uncomfortably at the thought of Isaac's persistence.

Lydia's smirk turned softer. "The boys in this town tend to fall in love in seconds and hold on to it for decades." It was a truth for some even non supernatural folks if Stiles hang up on Lydia is anything to go by. Just then her phone went off, which isn't an uncommon occurrence, even for their mall trip so far, but this one pulled the smile off her face. Lydia flipped her hair in the way Danny knew meant she was in deep thought. When she looked at him, her eyes were sad. "It's Allison." She turned to Brooke and shrugged. "Sorry, have to take this." She rushed out of the café and stood across the way, still in view.

Brooke watched on with curiosity as Lydia flounced away. "So," she said, scratching her peach fuzz and quirking an eyebrow. "Now who's Allison? Lydia keeps mentioning her."

"Allison," Danny sighed, gathering his thoughts, "Allison is the first person Lydia opened up to and really became friends with since I met her in middle school. As you may have guessed, Lydia lives off of manipulating people's perceptions of her, so having Allison as a real friend was a big deal." Brooke nodded solemnly, picking up on the seriousness of his tone. "At the end of school last year, Allison had a bit of a psychotic break. In the course of two months, give or take, her aunt was killed and found responsible for multiple counts of arson and murder-," he did pause at Brooke's gasp, "her mother committed suicide after being diagnosed with an illness she refused to live with, and her grandfather died of cancer, but not before going crazy and playing horrible mind games with Allison."

"Oh my god," Brooke whispered.

Danny nodded. "Her dad uprooted her so she could heal. Lydia gets letters frequently, but phone calls are usually settled."

"Holy fuck," the girl muttered. "Isaac did say you were a misfit of broken toys." Brooke rubbed a hand over her face while trying to let the information sink. "Don't think my imagination could come up with something as harsh as that."

"Oh, you have no idea," Danny revealed. "Probably shouldn't be telling you everybody's life stories, but.." he trailed off with a half-smile.

"Ooh, give me the dirt," Brooke smirked, but obviously buckling herself for some deep shit.

Danny finished his tea and readied himself for this spill all. "Well, let's start backwards. I'm the most adjusted of all of them, which is saying something being an openly gay teen. Surprisingly supporting community, Beacon Hills." Brooke laughed. "Stiles possibly goes here. He's dealt with his mom's death well, but he got into a lot of trouble last year which nearly cost his dad his job. There were a lot of trust issues, which was hard on Stiles for a while. But that's gone a lot better now. Next is Lydia by sheer willpower. Product of parents too proud to get a divorce. She's the Molly Ringwald of Breakfast Club the way they buy her attention to fight with each other. But Lydia's strong and crazy genius. Boyd has a lot of younger siblings he loves and is practically the dad to because his real parents are pretty nowhere. Jackson's adopted and that's scared him pretty badly. He's struggled with identity issues since he found out and has since become a bit of a douchebag who over tries to impress mom and dad. Next is Erica who used to suffer from intense epilepsy."

"Used to?" Brooke interjected.

"Uhhh, she got a new med middle of sophomore year. Doesn't happen often anymore." Danny hoped she bought it. She gave him a squinted look for a moment before signaling to go on. "Anyway, her dad's pretty nonexistent in her life and her mom was often really frustrated by her pressing medical issues. She and Boyd ran away last year. She's been living at the Hale house ever since she returned, along with Isaac." Danny paused for breath. "_Isaac_ has been living at the Hale house since Derek Hale became his legal guardian last summer. His mom died when he was a kid, then his brother died in Iran, and his father beat him-"

He cut short. That really wasn't something he should have shared, he supposed. Brooke looked into her empty tea cup. "He told me, last night. I don't think he meant to." She looked up and Danny could see her vulnerability behind the sickness in her eyes. "I don't get him. We've talked all of twice."

"Isaac's a good guy. I'd say give him a chance but from all I've seen of dramatic romances I wonder if it actually _is _better to love and have your heart broken or to suffer through lust until the temptation passes."

Brooke huffed. "God, there are so many of those movies. Seen _Keith_? Jesse McCartney isn't a bad actor, surprisingly. Though, did you read _The Fault in Our Stars_? John Green would definitely argue the love matters point of dying of cancer."

Danny couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, everybody loves the cancer card to create dramatic tension." Brooke laughed. "Anyway, on with the list of misfits, if you're interested?"

Brooke looked out the window to see Lydia still engrossed in conversation. It seemed heated. "Yeah, sure. Who's left?"

"Well, Scott's low on the list only because his lady love Allison is so far away and it's tearing him to pieces. His dad left when he was a kid and his mom's done a good job raising him. Then there's Derek. Derek who Lydia and I are convinced is in love with Stiles but if you bring this up with them they think we're just joshing them. Derek was fifteen or sixteen when his entire family, sans his sister and uncle, died in a fire. A fire started by Kate Argent, Allison's aunt."

"Oh, _shit!_" Brooke hissed, leaning into the drama.

"His uncle was comatose from the fire and when he woke up he was crazy and killed Laura, Derek's sister."

"Oh _double shit!_"

Danny nodded sadly. "Which is probably, maybe, why Derek's so emotionally constipated he can't admit he's totally in love with Stiles."

Brooke smirked. "I'd pay to see them together. That would be mad sexy."

"That is definitely something you should say to Derek. Please. Do it. He won't kill you despite his growly demeanor. Please, I beg of you."

They both laughed for a bit, but it tapered down quick enough, their smiles turning to frowns. "And here I thought being a rich kid with cancer sucked. I can't imagine everyone I'm related to dying."

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

Lydia's clipped footsteps came their way in the silence that followed. She looked determined and upset and something in her eyes seemed elated. "Allison's coming back."


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles had been texting Lydia furiously since early that afternoon. It was dark out now and Stiles had gone through five episodes of SGU in the background and they still hadn't figured out what to do. Allison was coming back. They hadn't told the rest of the pack yet. Neither of them knew why Allison was coming back. Stiles had also gotten a courtesy call, but Allison was skilled at not giving things away. They didn't know if it was going to be for long or if it was for a reason or if she was just ready to get back. They didn't know anything.

The front door opened and Stiles glanced up to see his dad walk in, unstrapping his gun and shacking off his jacket. "Hey kiddo," he called, heading for the kitchen.

"Dinner's in the microwave," Stiles called back.

"Thanks." A few minutes later the Sheriff headed into the living room with a warm plate of chicken and veggies. "You know, I saw your little friend walking around about an hour ago," he told Stiles between bites. "Reeked of smoke." Stiles hummed in agreement. He had a feeling Brooke always smelled of smoke, even when she had 'aired out'. "Anyway, I told her she's always welcome here. I'd rather her be safe than wandering around at night because she's afraid to go to her grandparents."

Stiles snorted. "Yeah, because the Sheriff's house is where all the cool kids want to hang out. She's never going to come here now."

The sheriff chuckled and shook his head at Stiles, who was engrossed in his phone. "I'm just throwing it out there. Don't be afraid to bring her over."

Stiles looked up and smiled sincerely. "Thanks dad." Stiles looked back to the text thread he had going on with Lydia and sighed. **Fuck it. I'm callin a pck meet.**

A few seconds later his phone buzzed with her reply. **Tonight? **

It was already pretty late, but his dad would understand. If Stiles didn't get this out tonight, he would explode. **Yeah. C u soon.**

Then, in a group message he sent **PM at Derks in 15. Big news. **

X

After explaining to his father that Allison was returning and that could mean a whole slew of things that needed discussing, the Sheriff let Stiles go with a chastising _be careful_. Stiles headed to Derek's house where half the pack pretty much lived anyway. It was always the designated meeting spot. By the time he pulled up, Lydia was already there with Jackson and Derek was waiting for Stiles on the porch.

"Down boy," he joked in response to Derek's lip snarl. Stiles felt kind of bad since Derek had to wake up for work tomorrow and the man needed his beauty rest. But, this was important. "Scott here yet?"

Derek merely shook his head and headed into the house. Boyd and Erica were curled around each other on the love seat and Isaac sat perched on the arm rest while Lydia tapped her foot nervously in the corner, gaining her odd looks from everybody, Jackson's concerned expression never leaving his face. Lydia doesn't get nervous. It's her thing. Her defense mechanism for dealing with supernatural creatures. Show no fear. Seeing her nervous was putting everyone on edge.

Stiles walked up to her and gave her a hug. "It's cool," he whispered. "I'll handle everything."

Lydia nodded into his chest and he ruffled her soft hair, earning him a death glare. He didn't mind though. He'd take the death threats if putting her attention into her hair stopped her nerves. Danny entered the front door with a shy smile to everybody. It was rare he showed up for pack meetings, choosing to be more independent in his humanity. The wolves were really beginning to get tense at the two anomalies. "This about," Danny started, glancing over to Lydia and back to Stiles with a shrug and the universal hand sign for phone call.

"Yeah," Stiles said. Danny nodded and took a seat next to Lydia, where she now finger combed her hair furiously. Scott rushed in and after taking notice that nobody seemed to be bleeding, he took a deep breath and sat on the other side of Danny. "Scott, oh buddy of mine. How are you?" Stiles started out.

Scott raised a confused eyebrow and shrugged. "Fine?"

Stiles nodded, ignoring the unamused expression Derek was sending his way. "Good, good. So. News." Everyone noted the way Stiles steeled himself before looking up and giving them all a look of seriousness. "Allison's coming back."

Everyone who wasn't human froze. The silence lasted for two seconds before a cacophony of noise erupted the living room. Everyone had questions and Scott seemed to be making a high pitched whine. Stiles tried to get their attention again, yelling at them to shut up and go one by one, but his voice was drowned out by the others. Derek let out his alpha roar and a hush fell over the werewolves.

Stiles looked Derek's way and mouthed 'thank you' before turning back to the rest of them. "Look, she called Lydia and I to inform us but we don't have a lot of information. She could be coming back for any number of reasons but it doesn't seem to be in the form of murderous rage monster because otherwise she wouldn't have called ahead of time. She's been gone almost a year, guys. Her family traveled a lot anyway. We don't know if she's staying. But we needed to tell you she's coming back so you're not caught off guard when you catch wind of her. Okay?"

"I don't want to see her again," Erica said, her voice even but her stare harsh. Scott began to whine again. "She shot me full of arrows, Scott! She killed Boyd!"

Boyd wrapped his arms more firmly around her frame, but it did little to settle the blonde's nerves or anger.

"Anyone can kill under the right circumstances," Danny said. They all turned, giving him odd looks. He merely shrugged. "I'm not justifying what she did. I wasn't even aware of it when it happened, so I obviously can't say too much on the matter, but sometimes we forget that that wasn't normal everyday Allison. Today, when Lydia got the phone call from Allison, we were out with Brooke." Isaac perked up at the name but mostly Danny just got odd looks. "Lydia wanted to get to know her. Doesn't matter. But, Brooke asked me who Allison was since she kept being mentioned. If you take away the werewolves…," he trailed off unsure how to continue. "Allison had a psychotic break, is what I told her, and it's true. She needed help, professional medical, psychiatric help. And she's been getting that for months now."

"She still tried to kill me," Erica seethed.

Stiles rubbed a hand over his face briefly before sitting on the ottoman in front of the couch. "Danny's right though," he said. "Say your best friend, someone who's practically a sibling to you, dies. Is killed, no less, in front of you. That alone can drive most people to some sort of mental break down, and some to violent revenge. But more than that, you find out that your best friend wasn't the person you thought they were. You thought they were good and fun and kind, but in reality they had been killing people. You still want revenge because of your personal memories, but are conflicted due to new information."

"On top of that," Lydia interjected, "you find out that something that shouldn't exist outside of fairytales do and you're trying not to go crazy just from that information alone."

"Then your mother commits suicide, apparently because of said fairytale creature," Stiles continue.

"Then a family member," Danny concluded, "you assumed you could trust, takes your pain and twists it to his personal gain by using your need for revenge to harm people."

Stiles looked around the room. Everyone seemed somber, or at least not likely to rip anybody's throats out at the moment. Derek was staring at him, but his expression seemed far away. Stiles sighed and stood again. "What she did was wrong, and you can blame her if you like, but she's gotten help. If she's coming back with good intentions, can you all at least try to live in a state of truce? I'm not even saying you have to like her."

Erica shrugged, but it was clear she was fighting back emotion.

Stiles reached into his pocket when he felt his phone vibrate. He was surprised to see it ringing and not just a text, and it was from an unknown number, although it wasn't unlisted. He answered with a confused face. "Hello?"

"_Stiles_?" Brooke's voice came through the other line sounding close to tears. Isaac was by his side in seconds.

"Yeah, it's me."

"_Wasn't sure I got the number right. Um, can you come pick me up?_"

Stiles's eyes flicked up to meet Derek's, who seemed much more focused in staring at Stiles than last time he looked. Stiles looked to Isaac before heading to the door and responded. "Yeah, of course. What's wrong, where are you?"

"_I'm at the Denny's_. _Stopped in to borrow their phone. I'm fine, really, I just-_," her voice cracked a little bit. _"I just fainted a little bit._"

Stiles was turning on his car, Isaac strapped into the passenger's seat, when she finished her sentence. "Okay," he said, panicking on the inside. "Okay, we'll be right there. Don't move, okay?"

_"Kay_._"_

The line clicked off and Stiles turned his jeep around, speeding as fast as he dared out of the woods, slowing down once he hit the main road. All the cops in town knowing his car was never ideal. Stiles wanted to panic, scream, cry at the idea of Brooke being scared and hurt. It was strange how quickly he had attached himself to her. Since she'd been back, he'd known her for all of three days, and yet he felt responsible for her.

When his mom was sick, he was too young to do anything but watch. Brooke leaned on him because of some arbitrary connection from childhood, true, but he felt the need to take care of her. He tried to shake the idea of how he always becomes too attached too quickly. Even though he told Scott once he could feed him live vermin if he needed to, Stiles almost didn't feed his boa at first when he was a kid because he wanted to keep the rats.

Isaac, however, was panicking in the passenger seat, so Stiles had to remain calm, if only on the outside. Although Isaac would be able to sniff his internal freak out, just a calm exterior can help others. "Do me a favor," he said with as steady voice as possible, "and text the pack. Tell them I'm sorry for speeding off. Allison should be in within the week, so just, keep an eye out, okay?" Isaac nodded and forced deep inhalation before numbly typing out as asked. It was good for him, helped him take his mind off the immediate.

It wasn't long before they pulled into Denny's and Isaac was out of the car before the engine cut. Stiles followed as quickly as possible to where Brooke was sitting on a bench outside the diner. She was shaking, unshed tears coating her eyes. It was the first time her bald head made her look like a cancer patient.

Isaac was crouched by her side, his hand hovering awkwardly. Stiles could see the uncertainty, whether or not he was allowed to touch her, whether or not he should try to take away her pain. Stiles knelt by Brooke and took a deep breath. "Hey," he said softly. "You okay?"

Brooke looked up , moving her head as little as possible. "Yeah," she croaked, her throat raw. Brooke cleared her throat and nodded a little more surely. "Yeah, I'm good. Just," she winced, "just a little in pain. Nothing too bad."

Stiles let out a long breath and stood, holding his hand out. "Come on," he said. "We're taking you to my place."

The ride back to the Stilinski household was quiet. Isaac sat in the back of the jeep with Brooke, making sure she could sit up straight and sneaking a few touches here and there, zapping away pain in such small doses the relief seemed natural.

When he parked the car it was well past midnight but the light in the kitchen was still on. Brooke was able to walk without leaning on Isaac, but that didn't stop him from keeping an arm around her. "I'm fine," she muttered for the umpteenth time, but both boys gave her a look and kept walking to the door. When they entered, the Sheriff's voice called out with "How'd it go?" before he came into the front hall and spotted the trio. "What happened?" he asked, his voice half Sheriff, half frightened parent.

"I'm fine," Brooke said again, her voice firmer.

"She called me from Denny's where she fainted," Stiles said. "Can she stay here tonight? Isaac and I will crash the living room."

The Sheriff gave a questioning look to Isaac, trying to puzzle why out of all the wolves, he was here. But he didn't question, merely nodded, giving a hand out to Brooke. "Why don't we get you to bed. You can take a shower first while Stiles changes his sheets and I'll find you some old clothes to sleep in."

Brooke opened her mouth to protest, but the Sheriff gave the look that always put Stiles in his place. This was nonnegotiable. Isaac was reluctant to let her go, but did so when Brooke stepped away.

"Thanks," she whispered, although it could have been to any of them.


	5. Chapter 5

Isaac didn't really sleep that night. He drifted in and out of consciousness, but for the most part his senses were tuned into the girl upstairs. Her breathing was still shallow, although not as bad as when they picked her up, and her heart beat seemed too slow, but it was hard to tell what was normal for her since they'd only just met really. Her sent got sweeter as the night went on, some of the smoke fading from her skin. It still carried that sick smell, leaving a metallic taste on his tongue. Isaac wanted nothing more than for that to go away.

It was still absurdly early in the morning, however, when Isaac jolted out of his makeshift bed on the floor next to Stiles and raced outside. The window to Stiles's room was open and jean clad leg was swinging out of it. He watched, ready to move if needed, as Brooke gripped the top of the window with her hand and twisted her torso outside.

"You know," he called, causing Brooke to start, "I heard they invented stairs. Much easier than jumping off rooftops or climbing trees, apparently."

The early morning sun cast shadows over her face, but Isaac could make out her confused frown. The air was crisp and he caught her shiver slightly before rolling her eyes and leaning back into the window frame, still half out of the house. He noticed her wince, although she hid the pain well. "How'd you know I'd be out here Curly Q?" she questioned. Isaac shrugged and just watched her. He hunched a little further, his tongue tying before he could even open his mouth. It was easier to speak when she didn't question him directly. She stayed silent for a bit, her arms crossed, but quickly gave up. "What are you doing out there anyway? You're not John Cusack. You don't even have a boom box."

"I'm not-," Isaac started to protest. He could feel the burn of his cheeks flare up. "I'm not trying to. I just…" Isaac ran his fingers through his curls a few times before looking up at her through his lashes. "I heard the window and I made a guess and I just wanted to make sure you were safe. For someone who collapsed yesterday, it probably isn't the best idea to be sneaking out of a second story window."

Brooke crossed her arms and looked away stubbornly, scratching briefly at her nose ring. "I have to get to my grandparent's house by eight. That's when my grandma wakes up and checks on me to make sure I'm okay. They think I'm there, asleep, all night."

Isaac could accept this, but… "And you couldn't use the stairs because?"

She shrugged, refusing to look at Isaac. Brooke's brow creased and Isaac caught the way her peach fuzz clad scalp followed the motion. He found it infinitely adorable. "I didn't want to wake you guys," she mumbled.

With a sigh and a conscious effort to straighten up, Isaac gathered his wits. "Go back inside, take the stairs, don't worry about Stiles, if he's still asleep he won't wake up for anything less than cooking food or a direct yell in the ear, and I'll walk you home."

The light was beginning to illuminate more of Brooke's face as the sun rose. The frown of her confusion deepened a hesitant curiosity behind her eyes, but the light hit her features in a way that made her skin glow. She looked like an angel just beginning to trust and Isaac thought that this was the moment he fell in love with her, not just some pull by the wolf in him. It was this moment that made him picture a life with a girl he hardly knew because there were so many reasons for her to not trust him, not like him, not listen to him. But, in this moment, her face softened and it was as if she wasn't even sick when tried to hide a smile with a nod and slipped back into Stiles room.

He met her at the front door, sure enough Stiles sleeping through any creak of stairs or swing of door. The Sheriff woke up, but that seemed more like natural timing than due to any disturbance, Isaac surmised. He couldn't help the grin on his face when he saw her. It had only been a few seconds, but it seemed like something had changed between them. She still carried that confused look in her eyes, but Brooke couldn't quite seem to suppress the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"I guess it was kind of stupid to try and sneak out the window, but I do need to sneak in the window of my room when we get there," she said looking off to the side. Isaac quirked his grin in amusement and gestured with his head down the driveway to start off their journey. "You're only live a couple of blocks away, right?" he asked.

"More like seven," she answered with a shrug. It was warm out, even if the cold didn't affect him as much, but Brooke still wore an oversized jacket. She zipped it up further as if to trap in the sun. "Maybe you should wear a hat," he suggested. She glared at him, as if offended at the idea of covering her bald head. "Not the hair," he corrected quickly, once he realized the reason for the glare, "but if you're cold. We lose most of your body heat from our heads and our feet, so if you're cold, you should wear a hat."

Brooke looked him over and crossed her arms. "Why do you care anyway? I still don't get it."

Isaac furrowed his brow in thought. How does one explain they're a werewolf that feels a direct pull to another person based on nothing but senses without actually saying werewolf. "I don't know," he said. It was kind of the truth anyway. The pull had been explained, and he was experiencing, but god knows he doesn't understand it. "I just, when I ran into the other day, it was like seeing a whole world that hadn't existed before. And I've had some experience in that matter."

"I just thought were a living scarecrow," she said with a bark of laughter. It was silent for a second and she cleared her throat. "I still don't get it. Why me? I mean, I'm not some supermodel."

He shrugged. "Can you explain attraction?"

"I can explain stalkers," she quipped back.

"I'm not a stalker," he protested, pouting. It looked as if she found that amusing, but it still bothered him because he kind of _was _stalking, he just couldn't help it. He knew what she smelled like without having to take a creepy, too near to her hair inhale. She seemed to find the pout entertaining and Isaac glimpsed a real smile on her lips for a second before her features fell. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Brooke shrugged and ran a hand back and forth over her peach fuzz. "You shouldn't like me."

She pulled a lighter out of her jacket pocket and twirled it between her fingers. "There's no point."

Isaac reached out and snatched the lighter from her fingers. She protested but he shrugged and slipped it into his back pocket. "You shouldn't be smoking."

"I'm dying, Cheekbones. It doesn't matter what the fuck I do to my body."

Isaac had to stop himself from breaking his fingers, his fist was so tight. "Don't say that."

"Why not!?" She scoffed angrily. "You think if you don't mention it it's not true? Try telling that to my parents. I'm dying and there's nothing anyone can do about it."

"I didn't mean that," he said. "It just. I know you're dying, Brooke. I know and it hurts like more than I can explain that this girl I just met who seems absolutely wonderful- I just. We don't even get a chance. Even if you'd like me, we don't even get a chance."

Brooke huffed and crossed her arms. "I'm the one who's dying, ass."

"STOP SAYING IT!" he yelled before clamping a hand over his mouth. "Sorry," he said quickly. "It's hard enough without hearing you say it."

"Whatever." Brooke let out a huff of air that would have blown bangs out of the way if she had any. "That's my house," she said flippantly.

Isaac could tell Brooke wanted to dash off to the house at the end of the block, but she didn't risk running and fainting again. The street lamps had finally turned off and a morning jogger passed them. "I'll walk you to your window," he told her, not leaving room for objection.

When they reached it, he could see the book she had used to keep the window open. "Moby Dick?"

"It's not mine, but it does the trick." She pushed the windowsill up and Isaac held it open while she climbed in. Her room held little personal items since it was just the guest room of her grandparents' house, but her scent was rich in the sheets and pillows on her bed she climbed on to. There was only a faint layer of cigarettes before her true essence coated the objects. It was nice, calming.

Brooke knelt on the bed, leaning out the window, a quizzical expression on her face. "So, Scarecrow, tell me. Is it really better to have loved and lost than to never love at all?" She sounded aloof yet whimsical, as if her question was the musing of a philosopher or artist. She sounded as if she didn't care about the answer.

Isaac leaned in slightly, wanting to scent her more, smell past the smoke and sick. She seemed to mirror him, her eyes still searching and confused. "I just want as many memories to remember you by as I can, and I'll always regret it if I don't," he told her honestly.

"I'm jealous of your hair," she responded. Brooke reached a hand out the window and laced it through his thick curls. "I miss mine."

Isaac melted into Brooke's touch. She barely touched him and yet it felt more soothing than what his touch could do for others. "I like your head," he whispered, "it's cute. Round."

Brooke laughed under her breath and tightened her grip in his hair, tugging him close. Isaac's senses went wild when their mouths touched. The kiss was short, but deep. Brooke pulled away all too soon, her confusion turned calculating, still trying to peer into his soul.

"I'll see you later."


	6. Chapter 6

Brooke's past was one of hospitals and seclusion and being treated differently. She had to give up running and friends and all of a sudden things were different. She still couldn't run, but even though she saw sympathy in the boys' eyes, she wasn't treated with pity. If anything, the pity went to Isaac. It was strange, but it was nice. For the first time, it was like she was the normal one. She didn't know how right she was until Allison finally rolled into town. Brooke was eating lunch with Isaac, Stiles, and Scott at some burger/ice cream place off Main Street when suddenly Scott perked up like a prairie dog and then darted away.

"What was..?" she trailed off asking.

Isaac, next to her, was straining his neck as if he was trying to see something far away, but his eyes were out of focus. Across from her, Stiles was rolling his eyes so much it looked painful.

"Allison," Isaac said.

Stiles let out an exaggerated sigh and stood. "Come on, we better go find them." Brooke looked at her basket which was still mostly full, but her appetite had been dropping. She could barely stomach the few fries she did eat. Brooke took the excuse to end the meal happily and tossed out her food, Isaac by her side.

Ever since they kissed, things hadn't really changed. He stood closer to her and still shuffled his feet nervously, but it didn't bother her as much anymore. They often linked pinkies or he would just casually touch her. It was all subtle. Delicate but not babying. They hadn't kissed again, but she saw the way Isaac looked at her lips from time to time.

"How'd you know it was Allison. How'd _Scott _know it was Allison?" she asked as they reached the sidewalk.

"I- we-, uh." He shrugged and Brooke narrowed her eyes.

"Uh-huh. Helpful. Very descriptive."

She never got an answer. After turning the corner and heading off into a bit of woodsy area they spotted Scott and whom Brooke presumed to be Allison lip locked like they were starving for oxygen from the other person's lungs.

"And suddenly, I'm not so sure I missed Allison," Stiles joked.

The couple broke apart, the girl looking bashful and Scott plane dazed. "Sorry," she croaked. "Shit, I really didn't mean to do that."

Scott brushed a thumb lightly against her cheek and gave a sad smile. "I meant to give it more time, too," he said earnestly. The way they looked at each other, Brooke could see how starved they were for the other's attention.

Allison cleared her throat and stepped back from Scott a bit. She then gave Brooke a once over, having just spotted a new face. "Does…?" she asked Stiles, who just shook his head.

_Definitely hiding something_, Brooke thought.

"Right, well," Allison continued. "I need to see Derek. I was actually heading his way." She turned to Brooke and smiled so widely Brooke could hardly believe the girl had suffered so much damage to have a mental break down. "Sorry, hi. My name's Allison."

"Brooke. And, Lydia's told me all about you."

Allison perked up, her bashfulness going away to curiosity. "You know Lydia?"

She nodded and scratched her head. "She's kind of made me her pet project." Not that Brooke's really complaining. Lydia taught her how to do a perfect foundation and it covers up the sick bags under her eyes to the point she doesn't look like she's dying. It's evil magic that takes way too long, but it works.

Allison looked over her and Isaac then squinted her eyes at Stiles. "Is Isaac..?" Stiles nodded sagely. Apparently half formed questions were all they needed to communicate. "Huh."

Brooke was starting to feel awkward by the way they were avoiding whatever subject it was she wasn't supposed to know about. She'd already asked Isaac if they were like, drug dealers or something. She pardoned herself with a lame excuse of being tired, Isaac volunteering to walk her home.

She had to admit, it was nice just walking, taking in the summer sun and letting her pinky link with his all the way back to her grandparents. She hadn't had nice in a long time.

X

Everyone sat around the living room at Derek's while Allison stood in front of the fireplace. Everyone really did include everyone, which was rare. Allison, once reaching Derek's , had very formally requested a pack meeting and promised it would only be her and no weapons. Erica glared from her seat on Boyd's knee in the chair. Derek stood behind the couch which Lydia, Danny, Jackson, Isaac, and Scott had all managed to squeeze into. Stiles sat on the armrest, keeping a calming hand on Scott's shoulder. Deaton and Morrell stood by the door with their arms crossed, faces so stoic it almost hurt Stiles to see, and Melissa with his father on the love seat. The Sheriff was not afraid to show he had a gun with him that was actually meant for the eighteen year old girl if she tried to pull anything.

Stiles's life was weird.

Allison had her shoulders pulled back and her jaw tight, knowing this was important and she needed to be strong, but even as a human Stiles could tell how awfully nervous she was. After a deep breath, Allsion steeled herself to talk. Her words shocked everyone, Stiles was sure.

"I turned 18 three months ago and officially became the head leader of the Argents. I'm changing how things work. I've been going around to packs and re-establishing truces. If any werewolf harms a human, it is the packs right to punish first. If they fail to, then we step in. We're not hunters, not anymore. We're trackers and freelance mercenaries, to better title us. I've regrouped everyone who works under the name of Argent, which is surprisingly a lot. Establishing fair truces, punishment to any of our men who wrongly harms a werewolf, and I've got troupes tracking rogue omega's. All of our guns have tranquilizers, and only the head of each team has wolfsbane and only to be used in life or death circumstances.

"I came back for two reasons. One is to re-establish a truce. Nothing tentative and fragile. I'm going to list all the regulations we've discussed with other packs. If you agree, we'll leave unless needed. If you don't, a team will be settled in Beacon Hills, to monitor. No action will come against you unless one of yours does harm a human. If any of my men attack for no reason, you can contact me directly and I will take care of them personally."

"You're serious?" Stiles asked, not having meant to say that out loud. He gripped Scott's shoulder a little tighter as he squirmed on the couch.

Her reply was immediate. "Of course I am."

"And your second reason for coming here?" Derek asked, his voice not betraying any thoughts he may have on the matter of a truce.  
"We've been chasing a rogue," Allison said, looking Derek square in the eye. "We believe it may be Peter."

Stiles felt his heart rate spike. He wasn't afraid of any of the werewolves in the room. But Peter… Peter still scared him. Derek placed a hand on his shoulder; much like Stiles was doing for Scott. It helped, a little.

After a truly horrifying moment where Allison had to explain all the ins and outs of the omega case, complete with crime scene photos and an extra stiff alpha who Stiles just _knew _was feeling guilty for not having killed Peter a second time when he had the chance, Allison and Derek left to discuss the truce. Terms and conditions and that shit. All the werewolves could still hear, of course, but the negotiations were between Head Hunter and Alpha. No one else was to participate, except Boyd who followed as Derek's second.

"You okay man?" Stiles asked Scott. They hadn't really gotten a chance to talk since he and Allison were found glued to the lips. Scott nodded dumbly. Maybe not okay, Stiles surmised, but dealing.

X

"Scott?" Allison asked tentatively. It was late and everyone who didn't live at the Hale house had left, except the two of them, that is. Scott jumped up from where he was sitting on the front porch, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. She hadn't snuck up on him, not really, but it still felt like it to him.

It had been so long since he'd last seen her. It was like just being in her presence was the sting of cleaning out an infected wound. It hurt, but it was getting better.

Silently, they made their way to her car. He climbed into the passenger's seat without a word and they drove to Holiday Inn she was staying at. Allison parked the car and didn't look at him. "I can't stay," she said. "Even if Derek hadn't agreed to the truce, I wouldn't stay. I can't."

Scott reached over the center console and laced his fingers with hers, asking why without the sounds caught in his throat.

"There are too many triggers in Beacon Hills, Scott," she choked out, tears threatening to spill over out of nowhere. "I'm better, I am." She looked at him and his heart plummeted. "I love you," she told him and squeezed his hand. "I love you so much, but this is the town where I lost who I thought my family was, my family, and myself. I can't stay here."

"I'll go with you," he whispered, not wanting to let her go after finally finding her.

A sob escaped her and Scott brushed away the tear. "I should be stronger than this," she muttered into his palm, trying to stop the tears.

He shook his head. "It sounds stupid, but I'm glad to see you cry. I missed the you who freaked out over hitting a dog."

Another sob was pulled out of Allison, but it was accompanied by a wide smile. He leaned in and kissed her. It was nothing like the rush of _need_ that had assaulted both of them that afternoon. It was slow and soft and so telling.

They broke away, lips hovering apart. "You can't follow me, Scott," she told him. "This is your pack. It hurts. It hurts so much being away from you but we can't. I can't stay and you can't leave."

"A pack can spread out. It happens all the time. We're half human, we follow just as many of those customs," he whispered, pleading.

She shook her head and kissed him gently. "I need more time, Scott. I love you, I do. But I need more time." Allison took a shuddery breath, the tears having stopped. "College," she compromised. Once I leave, I'll keep in contact. And college. We can go to college together."

He kissed her again. "College."

It was prayer as much as it was a promise.

X

When Stiles got back home, his dad gave him the gun he had trained with. Under his dad's permit, they got a second handheld. Stiles knew which of his jackets could cover the telltale bump of the shoulder holster and now that there was a threat he would be wearing it every day. The left inside pocket of his jacket had tranquilizer darts fitted for his gun, and the right inside pocket a box of five wolfsbane bullets.

Stiles felt a combination of badass and queasy. _Just like Nathan Fillion_, he told himself to steel his nerves, hoping he'd never have to shoot but knowing he would if Peter dared get near him or the people he cared for.


	7. Chapter 7

Stiles was glad it was the summer. His shoulder holster was hidden under his blazer and it made him fidget. Stiles was technically too young or his permit so carrying a gun was illegal, even if it was his dad that made sure he had it. He was just ungodly thankful that he wasn't hiding it on his person _and going to school. _It was much easier to hide when he wasn't terribly nervous about being caught. Or at least, slightly easier.

"You're twitchier than normal," Brooke observed, her eyes growing narrow. "Seriously. Chip, what are you guys hiding from me?" They were getting dinner (or rather, Stiles was scarfing pizza while Brooke picked at the toppings of her single slice) after Stiles dropped Scott and Isaac off at Derek's to start that night's patrol.

Stiles deflated at her question, his nerves so overpowering he just wanted to let them go. "I wish I could tell you," Stiles admitted, putting down his slice as his stomach turned. "But it's not my secret to tell."

Brooked nodded, accepting this. Sure, she had been getting a lot of information from these people for little to nothing, but that didn't mean she had a right to everything. She understood that. But it was still annoying to be kept in the dark.

After they finished, Stiles offered to drive her home, but Brooke declined. "I'll head toward the school. I really need a smoke."

Stiles sighed. "I wish you wouldn't."

Brooke shot his a tired ghost of a smile. "Well, I'm dying anyway," she bit out. Brooke dug out her pack of ciggerates from her oversized coat, pulling out a stick and twirling it around her fingers. "See ya later, Stilinski."

Stiles gave a halfhearted wave and headed back to the jeep. He figured he'd head over to Derek's since his dad was pulling a night shift. It was a good as place as any to mess around on his computer, especially since he'd be the one driving Scott home later anyway.

X

Isaac and Scott were patrolling, trying to sniff out Peter. Allison had been right and Derek had caught wind of his uncle the day previous, but they were as of yet unable to track him. It put everyone on edge but there was little more they could do than do regular runs of the town perimeter and the preserves. Despite having agreed to the truce, the Argent's stayed in town. Derek had agreed to this, of course. Allison was being extra diplomatic with him, which was appropriate, considering their history.

But something gnawed at the pit of Isaac's stomach. He never liked Peter, but this was more about Brooke. She was growing more and more on edge, trying to piece together their secret. She knew they were hiding something, and Isaac worried that she was too vulnerable to be kept in the dark. But it wasn't his call and Derek hadn't approved it.

Lydia had claimed she wouldn't be around long (Isaac had almost cried when she brought it up, it was a sad sight), it couldn't harm anyone if she knew. Derek countered that from the time Peter killed Laura to when they killed Gerard was only a span of four months. A lot can happen in a short period of time, and Lydia couldn't argue that. Still, it bothered them all. It bothered Isaac the most.

And right now, though it was dark and Peter could be nearby, all Isaac could think of was _something is wrong with Brooke_. It was only half a minute later that Derek's roar pierced the air, calling. Scott and Isaac raced towards the sound automatically. Was coming from the direction of the Hale house, but further past the Hale property. They were impossibly far away, but Isaac knew, he could feel it. Where ever Derek was, Brooke was nearby, and she was in danger.

X

Stiles was running.

_Of course_, he thought, _of fucking course. _He was halfway to Derek's when something- _someone!_ ran head first into his jeep and sent him flying. There was growling and other rabid noises and he knew it was Peter. None of his own would do this. He had quickly scrambled for his seatbelt and prayed the car would protect him long enough to get his gun out. He hoped a wolf was nearby.

His prayers were answered when Derek's roar sounded. Stiles felt odd about being able to pick out the sound as being distinctly 'Derek', but he didn't have time to dwell. Peter dashed off at the sound, having successfully torn off his car door first, and Stiles scrambled out just as Derek came racing into the path where Stiles had recently been driving.

"I'm fine!" he reassured Derek, pulling out his gun and racing back where he had come from. They didn't have time to waste just standing around. "Brooke's out by the school, Derek. Peter is heading her way," he called out to the alpha who was keeping clip with Stiles. So Stiles was running. Derek burst out a speed and chased after his uncle.

X

Brooke is stomping out her third cigarette when a roar resonates somewhere deep into the woods. Her heart speeds up in shock. That sounded almost like a bear, but surely she was safe here, she reasoned. The sound had been pretty far off and she doubted anything that big would be wandering this close to civilization… right? Brooke inched away from the tree line, planning on at the very least rounding the other side of the sports shed. More roars sounded, closer, more of them, and it sounded like a struggle.

"Fuck," Brooke squeaked. Her feet had apparently decided to cease in their tip-toeing away and she was frozen in place, heart jack-rabbiting in her chest. A sound of someone barreling through the dry leaves and low branches to her left had her like a deer in head lights and the single thought coursing through her brain was _At least it's not the cancer_.

Which is of course when Stiles breaks through a dense patch of underbrush, brandishing a _freaking gun_ and yelling at her to run. Brooke, of course, continues to stare, wide eyed and immobile. "RUN!" Stiles yells again, when he reaches her, grabbing her wrist and dislodging her from her stupor. She stumbles after him as he pulls her along.

"Why do you have a gun!?" She manages to gasp out, the first thoughts she could manage.

"Long story!" He yells back. "Faster!"

"I can't!" She snaps, already pulling in deep wracking lungfuls of air with each pounding step, her heart feeling like it could explode. "I CAN'T!" She screams, although her voice is empty of resonance, like a stage whisper from a voice that's been scraped raw by rusty nails.

Brooke falls out of his grip, physically unable to go on. Tears sting at her eyes as she desperately tries to _breathe _but it hurts so much and her lungs feel heavy. A tear or two escape by the time Stiles rounds back and stands protectively in front of her, facing the woods.

"Breathe," she heard him whisper. "You can do it. I know it's hard, but you can breathe." Stiles kept up a string of encouragement as she sunk to the grass and dipped her head between her legs.

Just then another cacophony of roars and _howls_ erupt, some further away, some closer than even before. Stiles swears and Brooke gets a feeling he knows exactly what those sounds mean. She looks up just in time for another figure to burst through the tree line, and it's like everything happens in slow motion, but only could have been a few seconds.

It looked like a man. He had a torn shirt, bleeding, ripped jeans, hair long and wild as if he hadn't gotten it cut or even had a chance to wash in a long time, with leaves and twigs sticking out. He looked deranged, like he'd been living in these woods for years, his eyes a piercing blue that didn't look natural. But he wasn't a man. His brow was thick and his teeth were sharp and _he _was making that growling noise that she had heard fighting earlier and he lunged at Stiles with nails long and sharp enough to be considered claws.

Then Stiles shot. One-two-three times, square into the man's chest. The sound of gun fire so close left Brooke's ears ringing and the force of the recoil had Stiles's legs bracing against her. The force of the _bullets _stopped the man in his attempt to get at them, but only for a moment. He stumbled closer, gritting his teeth in pain, and Stiles shot again.

Then another man came out of the woods, tackling the first to the ground. Only, this man Brooke recognized through his shifted features. Same for the next two that join the fray. Somehow the first one, the wild one, gets loose and books it. One of them – Scott – takes chase as Brooke locks eyes with the tallest before the first one barks at him. Isaac speeds off after Scott.

"I got him near the chest, he'll be down in a few minutes," Stiles mumbled, clearly trying to grasp from breath himself.

Derek, who's face had gone back to normal, raced to Stiles, checking for wounds, asking a deluge of questions as Stiles bat him away with a chorus of "I'm fine!"

"Your car just rolled, Stiles! You could have a concussion."

"I don't think my aim would be that good if I were suffering from brain damage," he retorted.

Brooke sucked in another ragged breath and both the boy's attention snapped to her. Her eyes were blown wide, still trying to process what the _hell _just happened. And also, very much so feeling like she was going to faint which had nothing to do with the fact that apparently _werewolves_.

"She's not okay," Derek says definitively, swooping down to lift her in his arms. Her panic grows because she had just seen him _as a werewolf _but Stiles voice reached her, assuring her she'd be safe. Brooke doesn't believe him, even as Derek begins to take off with her in his arms, but she passes out before mustering up the strength to protest.

X

Isaac sat by Brooke's bedside, listening to her heart beat over the electric echo of it coming from the machine's she was attacked to. He had to bribe Scott's mom since he wasn't family, but she understood the importance of what was between him and Brooke when Scott had said "She's his Allison," so sadly Melissa couldn't say no.

Her eyes fluttered open, struggling for wakefulness. Brooke's eyes caught Isaac's face and he squeezed her fingers gently. She blinked a few times before scrunching her nose against the tubes in them and looking down at her chest. She couldn't see due to the hospital gown, but she was sporting a new bandage wrapped around her torso.

"You had fluid in your lungs," he told her. "You're okay now."

Brooke sighed. "This is exactly the kind of situation I tried avoiding when I refused new treatments," she croaked, "spending all my remaining time alive recovering in a hospital." She looked his way and scrutinized Isaac's face. "Getting looks like that from all my visitors." Isaac tried to school his features, but honestly he wasn't sure how he was looking at her to begin with. Brooke squeezed his hand back, the movement soft and brief. "So, you're a werewolf."

So Isaac told her everything. He started with how Derek saved him from his dad, and later took him in as his legal guardian. He talked about Scott and Allison and how her family was hunters but everything was looking up on that front. He told her about Jackson and Lydia and Boyd and Erica. He told her of all their adventures, in as little detail as possible because he didn't want to relive most of it. He told her about Peter and how he had gone crazy because of the fire that killed his family. He left out the part about him dying and coming back to life. He told her how Derek chased him off, but he had gone rogue, an Omega without a pack too far gone to come back to humanity. How Peter had come back to Beacon Hills out of a residual need for revenge. How he was dead and gone now.

Brooke takes it all in with steady breaths, unable to do much more than focus on the heavy push and pull of her lungs and listen. "Okay," she says when it's clear he's finished getting everything off his chest.

"Okay?" he asks, clearly not expecting her to be so calm about it all.

"Mmhmm. I think I'm going to go back to sleep now. We can talk when I'm more lucid and probably not in shock."

Isaac couldn't help the smile that shyly pulled at his lips. "Okay." He leaned over and kissed her forehead, giving her hand one last squeeze. "Go to sleep."

X

When Brooke wakes up again, morning sun is spilling through the blinds on the other side of the room and she's alone save another sleeping patient two beds down. Not long after the door opens, and a blonde nurse in colorful floral scrubs walks in with a clipboard and a devastated expression. "Miss Whalen?" The nurse asks after noticing Brooke was awake. Brooke merely nodded. The nurse walked up to the foot of her bed, clearly uncomfortable. "I'm afraid we have some news," she said and Brooke just waited for the inevitable, but it didn't come. "It's about your grandfather."


End file.
